American Friday Night
by missing in imagination
Summary: Nick & Miley test their chances when they leave their identities behind and go to a high school football game. NILEY


**American Friday Night  
**Inspired by swinglifeawayxx's "lights"

_Cradling stones hold fire bright  
As crickets call out to the moonlight  
As you lean in to steal a kiss_

He was cold, and I was cold, and the coolness surrounding us sliced through the air and pinked our cheeks. Cigarette smoke burned through my eyes as we trudged through tall stalks of grass, passing a group of young girls and boys with tobacco between their fingers. Nick was forced to park his car in the unkempt field across the high school, all the other lots were packed. It was a bit of a hike to get to the football field, but we could hear the noise- the adolescent excitement and team pride- guiding us to normalcy.

He held my mittened hand closely. Either a habit or a stronghold (sometimes I believe they're the same object of affection) both of my hands clasped over his and we continued walking. When we walked like this, with his one hand holding both of mine. I strode at an angle just merely facing him, like a fiery racehorse being trotted to the starting gate. As if I were strengthening my hold on the most unstable thing I needed.

We crossed the street after a few cars strewn past. They were probably all headed downtown to the coffee shop which was the best place around to warm your fingers. Or so I had heard. Or they're most likely getting a head start on the bonfire which was equating to be a huge get-together after the game ended, located in someone's backyard. Tonight I wanted to know what it is like to live freely- to take a step down the staircase of a child star's chronology and revert to the part when I had missed out on something as pleasingly simple as a Friday night football game with my boyfriend.

I turned around a bit, "Your car looks too out of place."

He turned his head too and an inescapable chuckle whispered through his lips. The group of kids had meandered from their smoggy spot, backsides against their pickup trucks, to Nick's hot rod of a Mustang and their eyes grazed over it with envy. It stood out like a sore thumb.

"Do you think they'll figure us out?" I asked with a flake of doubt falling around my head.

"No," he replied firmly and rested his arm around the back of my neck to cradle me tighter in this frigid cold, "Nobody can figure us out."

The closer we got to the school, the denser the noise became. A spectator's clap. A cheerleader's cheer. A marching band's drum. The referee's whistle. I could hear the anticipation of my own beating soul bounce back and forth against my ribs, a vibrating camaraderie.

We entered the school property where Nick paid our fee to an adult woman who's son was probably a player on the field. Nick and I held our breath as he handed her the money in exchange for two orange ticket stubs, avoiding eye contact with the lady. A million questions trampled through my mind during that one mere minute: does she know who we are? Has she seen our shows? Listened to our music?

"Have a good time," she smiled and directed us to the field, "Go Lions."

A wave of relief washed over me and so I looked before my eyes. The image of what I've been missing out on for my entire teenage life spread out in front of me on a canvas of green and gold. The entire right side of the sidelines was an explosive collection of fans in fairly sturdy wooden bleachers with cow bells and air horns in their hands going off like fireworks. A track wound around the football field where the cheerleaders of each team were dancing and hyping up the crowd. And the football players were hunched over in the middle of the field ready for the play, a clash of green & gold and red & black. Something so American felt suddenly so foreign to me. It was magnificent.

"Wow this is pretty cool," Nick said and took my gaze in his. Even he was in awe and that made me warm inside.

It was like a swarm of bees at the ground of the stands. There was an endless line flowing around the snack shack where a thin stream of silver-lined smoke seeped out from the grill at the back window. I could smell salty pretzels, creamy hot chocolate, team pride. It was exhilarating to be within a crowd that wasn't screaming for me because I didn't want that, that was not what I needed. What I needed was an outlet from this tour, from this fame, and from this life so that Nick and I could convince ourselves that somewhere within our hearts, there were two seventeen year olds in their junior year at an old rural high school falling in love under the moonlight.

I remember when we decided a few weeks back to take this risk. I was on the phone with Nick, laying in my bunk; it was nearly two in the morning, but we've learned that without a proper "goodnight" the morning sun can't rise. He had told me that they will wrap up shooting for the week early and will be given Friday off, and I wouldn't have a show- so he came to stay the weekend with me. Sort of hopelessly romantic, but at the same time, it was avoiding that.

"_So the city we'll be in has this small town on the outskirts of it and there's some important football game going down on Friday night," I held my phone closely, "I think it's like, a really big deal- like football is the center of their existence," I laughed, "I think we should go."_

"_You think we should go? Miley," he let out drowsy laugh, "We can't just do that."_

"_Oh come on, you can't just sit there and deny that somewhere within you- you wish that we could just be high schoolers and go out on a Friday night to the big game and sit on the bleachers, all wrapped up in a blanket.. sipping at hot chocolate.. pretending everything is what we aren't.."_

"_That does sound nice," he sighed. "But what if somebody figures us out?"_

"_Nick.. nobody can figure us out."_

We climbed up the bleachers, nearly pulling my scarf up to my nose, and found some room at the very top. It was beyond colder at this height, like the hovering summit of Mount Everest where you could reach out and touch the clouds with your fingertips. We settled down into our winter coats & each other's arms, and Nick pulled out a plaid fleece blanket from under his arm. The blanket wrapped around us like a comfort food, but I could still see his eyes darting around nervously.

"Nick," my cornflower-blue mitten raised to his cheek, "Stop worrying, we're going to have fun, okay?"

He let out a long, deep sigh as if his worry and doubts fell out with each breath. "Okay," he replied with a cascading smile and sharply put both his arms around me and I fell into him with my head against his chest.

"I feel like one big pillow," I mumbled against his down ski jacket.

He only laughed heavily and the sounds of the crowd engulfed us. We were no longer two people in a crowd. We were the fans.

_We all share the pain of our histories  
But the ache goes away if you could see  
This night under stars, well, I call it peace  
If you say, I'll never need more than this_

"Come on Lions!!"

It was overtime & everyone was on their feet. All focus was at the right side of the field, just a few yards away from the game winning touchdown. Nick was sporadically spurting screeching noise out of an air horn he acquired during half time and was stomping his feet to the threatening beat of everyone else's on the bleachers. He was just as much into this as I was- I balanced myself with my hand on his shoulder while standing on top of my seat. I let out a cry and a cheer, but it was only a seed floating in the enormous sky of noisemakers and shouting. I didn't feel cold anymore even though our steamy breathes circled before our eyes. But our eyes were zeroed-in on the field; waiting, watching, wishing for that silly ball to get past the goal line.

Both teams hunched over in position ready to fight like warriors in the battlefield. The huge _Friday night lights_ beamed down upon them and shined against their mud-caked helmets. At the sound of one final call, grass-stained knees and frozen fingers collided into a mush of strength and color and glow, as the ball sailed through the air and landed in the palms of green & gold.

The crowd shot up in the air, the buzzer rang, and the noise level soured. Nick looked up at me with the grandest smile I had seen in a while, I returned the same, and I leaned down to immerse my arms around his neck. He hugged my waist and lifted me down and I stared into his eyes with love & stars. My eye lids flickered shut before I could even taste his cold lips on mine. I had never felt that feeling that tricks you to believe you're in some cheesy Hollywood movie- I've been apart of films more than enough times to know what it feels like. But this was different. This was magical.

"I love you, Miley," he said as he pulled away tenderly.

I smiled and rested my head on his chest, hugging him with warm attachment. The voices around us fogged our hearing but I could clearly listen to the powerful beats of our intertwined hearts. I don't think he'll ever understand how much he lives within me- in my soul, always on my mind- like an insect constantly writhing through my insides. But as he leaned in to steal a kiss under this chilly October moonlight, I realized that I'll never need anything more than this.

_Don't live in forgotten times  
May this always remind you  
Of the sea under the skies blue looking glass _

After the game ended and the crowd thinned out, Nick and I followed the swarm of chanting Lions out to the car lot in the field. The ecstatic thrill was brilliant- I felt like a student that had survived in this school for years. We decided to test our disguised identities for just a little while longer and followed the mass of hand-me-down trucks to a farmhouse a few miles down the street. For just a moment, I thought I was home in Franklin.

The fire crackled and the heat roasted our neighboring cheeks. A massive bonfire sweltered the air around us, feeding off of firewood and old dried lumber. I peered up at the dark blue sky, the vault of Heaven, and questioned how God could possibly be more generous to me. My boy was sitting beside me, radiating with as much love for me as the fire was giving of rage. My mind was in a complete state of empty leisure, an achievement that could uneasily be obtained. And just for the night, I had been given the gift of experiencing the average youth. It was as if I was Cinderella but everything I had just been granted would slip away at midnight.

Prince Charming shifted on the thick log that we were sitting on. "Any odd stares?" he asked.

"Nope. Any suspicious whispers?"

"None."

"Do you feel normal yet?" I asked, my eyes fixed on the brilliant blaze of the flames.

He sighed, our definition of "normal" rolling around in his mind. He turned towards me and the touch of his skinny-jean knees knocked me out of my trance. "I think I feel as normal as I ever will be."

"Me too," I smiled slightly, "I'm really glad we decided to do this. I'm never gonna forget it."

He slowly stood up and I gazed up at him. The fire created an orange haze that gathered at the edges of his frame, turning him into, what I perceived to be, an angel. I claimed his reached-out hand in my own, pulling myself to my feet, and we headed to his 'way-too-out-of-place' Mustang where a group of young girls and boys stood with tobacco between their fingers. As we approached, their wide eyes and stunned expressions told me that it was time to leave. But the cheers of the crowd, the feeling of victory, couldn't leave me if I tried- this American Friday night, like the songs of returning heroes, would be carried home.

_Let's make this our story,  
Let's live in the glory  
Time, it fades away,  
Precious as a song  
Cause someday we'll be gone_


End file.
